I could learn a lot about living in the moment from my Great Dane, Cone Dog. Oh, I know, I know, he's just a dog and not one of our more complicated human species.

But these are the things I've observed about Cone that seem noteworthy and perhaps bear emulating:

bull; First, he is always optimistic about the prospect of fun. To him, fun means the W word (as in, walk). So every time I put on tennis shoes, or veer toward the back door, he thinks we're going hiking. His ears go up. His face looks as happy as it can. He bounds off the couch or recliner and lurches toward the door like a little kid going to Disney World for the first time. Hey, it's just a walk, but it's partly his unbridled enthusiasm that keeps me stepping out day after day.

bull; Second, Cone Dog does not hold a grudge. Rick does not allow him to ride with him in his "new" old truck with maroon upholstery. But Cone doesn't seem to care. And he is always ready to run after Rick on the four-wheeler or squeeze into the back seat of the Cavalier for a spin around the block.

bull; Third, Cone Dog considers almost everyone his friend. Even Kara and Tim's dog, Nicky, a much-smaller lab/pit who can dominate Conan with an eye blink and a low growl. Nicky routinely snatches Cone Dog's babies (his stuffed toys, currently a beige teddy bear that he carries everywhere) and eats Cone's food and appropriates Cone's soft dog-pillow in the living room. Still, Cone loves Nick unreservedly and greets him each and every day like a long lost high school football buddy at a 25th reunion.

bull; Fourth, Cone Dog never feels guilty about resting. Unlike his human counterparts (substitute my name here), he can always happily find a shady spot in the yard and sink down with a sigh to relax. It never worries him that someone else (substitute Rick's name here) is busy working. He just spreads out his giant feet, rests his huge head on them, and takes a snooze.

bull; Last, Cone Dog never worries about his weight or its effect on others. He will back up to a total stranger and plunk his butt down on their lap with abandon. He tips the scales at about 140 pounds. But, does he think, "Maybe I'm too heavy to do this?" Heck no, he envisions himself as a lap dog and probably thinks the person is lucky to be blessed with his huge, grungy hindquarters on their white Capris.

So, next time someone talks to me about appreciating each day and living in the moment, I need look no further than the living room couch, where Cone Dog will no doubt be lying on his back with all four feet in the air, snoring loudly and dreaming of juicy steaks.